missing nothing It’s hard to say which is the landscape of loss, the autumn, when everything is fading and falling, withered yet striking golden poses while hurrying

Loving and Leaving them for 32 years
missing nothing It’s hard to say which is the landscape of loss, the autumn, when everything is fading and falling, withered yet striking golden poses while hurrying
This month, I’m writing words and posting images relating to the landscape of memory. I hope to write poems most days and also share photos,
This month, I’m writing words and posting images relating to the landscape of memory. I hope to write poems most days and also share photos,
I’m using daily prompts associated with Inktober (artists doing ink drawings) to spur poetry this month. The poems flow from the prompts, though it may not be